


we don't get nice things like this

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: Charley picked a good couch — soft enough to melt in to, but not so soft that her knees disappear when she straddles Remy on top of it.prompt:delight + green





	we don't get nice things like this

**Author's Note:**

> we all know Charley likes straddling Remy, so I mean, I had to write something for it.  
> it's just a high t / fades to black.

.

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Charley picked a good couch — soft enough to melt in to, but not so soft that her knees disappear when she straddles Remy on top of it. He seems pretty happy too, if his wide smile and twinkling eyes are any indication. Though, he groans a little bit when she slips on top of him.

“Should I get back up?” She doesn’t bother trying, of course, because his hands seem to find her waist easy enough even with his reluctance.

He shakes his head. “Baby, you keep doing this, I’m gonna think you mean something by it.”

Well, she did cross her living room to get to him. She did pick out this top in hopes of his fingers finding the cut out on the back. For a farmer, he’s got the softest hands. Probably from all the exfoliating in the dirt he plays with. Studies* — he’d flip if she said he plays with it. He’s an intellectual, after all. A brilliant, inspired, amazing intellectual with soft hands and an even softer soul.

Besides, she more than  _means_  something when she climbs in his lap. She wants something. She wants to finally be able to take this further than a few chaste kisses and double entendres. She wants his hands on her thighs and to see if the flush that takes over his face does the same with the rest of him. She wants uninterrupted.

“I was planning on proving it actually.” The front door’s locked, and Micah’s at Davis’ for the whole night. The mill’s fine, Ralph Angel’s busy with Darla, and for once, nobody needs her. She can get what she needs. “No interruptions this time.”

His eyes shine before his fingers arch down to her hips. “Interruptions from what?” He wants to make her say it?

Her brows lift. “You want an itinerary?”

He laughs, and her body bounces with the shift of his chest. By the time he settles, both of their thighs rest deeper into the couch.

“You got one?”

She nods, and her eyes have to drift up, so she can figure out the plan exactly.

“We start here, like this.” Before she can do or say anything else, Remy slides forward, so his lips can find her neck. She cranes her neck to give him more room, but it’s different than it used to be. Her curls don’t sweep along her shoulders the way her straight hair used to. They don’t brush against his skin either, only hers. Like a private whisper, a reminder to keep her senses alert so she can feel everything.

His lips brush her skin where her hair just was, little cracks against smooth skin, the pressure right along her pulse. She forces her breath to steady so she can speak again. “Mhm. Like that. Then maybe —” her breath hitches as he nips at her. His head’s ducked, so he misses the way her eyes roll. He doesn’t need to see anyway. His lips curl back into a smile against her skin. “Maybe, I can thank you for all the work you’ve put in.”

“Thank you’s and apologies,” he says, his journey north ending with a peck to her lips that turns into a longer kiss. Then a second one because pulling away is more his strong suit than hers. “Can’t wait to hear how that sounds.”

Loud, probably. Thank God there’s no neighbors out here, just machines and bagasse.

“I’ll get right on it.”

.

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**Author's Note:**

> the title is a reference to the fact that we don't get to enjoy moments like this for long. I blame Remy. what about y'all?


End file.
